


interim

by lrviolet



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrviolet/pseuds/lrviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they are at her door, Sasuke realizes he hasn’t really let go of her hand for the longest time until she takes it out of his grip and she waves at him good night. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” </p><p>Rather unwarranted, but he nods nonetheless. Post-699, pre-gaiden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	interim

**Author's Note:**

> It's been six years since I've written anything in the Naruto fandom. I don't know how to explain myself further for any inadequacies regarding characterization or minor details.

i.

Sasuke returns four months later after Konoha has last seen him. Not quite long, compared to the few years he’s abandoned the village, those years of turning his back on them over and over again, like his main purpose hadn’t been the restoration of his honor. His comrades however, held on to every piece of hope of his gradual comeback. He understands that now, as much to his displeasure, that no matter how far he flees out of reach from this town, the will of fire pulls him right back – to what everyone else might call – _home_.

“Look who came crawling back.”

He rolled his eyes at the voice, yet remains passive as the blonde boy approaches him with one of those tight grins, also wearing his orange jacket today, the very epitome of annoyance since day one at the Academy.

“I do remember the leaf village promising me a replacement for the arm you tore off.”

Scratching his head, Naruto points at Sasuke’s left, still obviously hollow. “Oh yeah. Why were you in such a hurry last time, huh? The old lady had your prosthetics ready a day or two after you left.”

“Hn.” With his dismissive response, Naruto takes it as an acknowledgment that they head off to get down to business.

Konoha appears to be in a state of rehabilitation. Four months ago, he has fought with Naruto and the rest of the Allied Forces against Madara, and even Kaguya the great being that created the Shinobi world through her sons. The Fourth Great Shinobi War has ended, and Kakashi has taken over the village with proper instructions and goals of restoring it. It hasn’t been very long, but Sasuke feels it to be a lifetime away as he sits in the clinic, the head doctor scrutinizing the stitches made at his arm.

“Well, l think this shall be easy,” says the woman. “Lady Tsunade’s got your arm prepared awhile back. I’ll call in Sakura to assist in the surgery.”

“Sakura-chan’s been working hours in the hospital, day and night. She’s been wondering when you’d be back,” Naruto informs him, as if the latter had no idea what Sakura’s days were like here, but, against better judgment Sasuke lifts his eyes to Naruto and nods simply without much snide rebuttal.

He wakes up to clean sheets, a physical left arm covered in multitude layers of bandage, and someone he hasn’t been fully acquainted with. Eyes focused, he gives the other man a scowl, ultimately trying to catch his attention without speech.

“I see you’re awake, Sasuke,” he smiles easily at him, too easily that Sasuke knows he’s faking it. He doesn’t know him, but he senses nothing but an air of makeshift sincerity. If he thinks he completely ousted Sasuke out of Team 7, he might as well try to be real about it. “Sakura will be back shortly. She’s out to order you some takeout ramen for dinner instead. Hospital food is shitty.”

He grunts when he tries to sit up, already testing his left arm’s capabilities if it were indeed the perfect replacement. Pain sears, causing him to let out an even exasperated sigh, balancing himself properly when he leans back to the headboard, noticing his heart rate stabilizing.

“And Naruto?” Sasuke inquires sardonically.

“I really have no idea. Kakashi-sensei was here an hour ago, though. Asked how long you’ve been in Konoha and I told him practically four hours tops, two hours of which mostly unconscious during surgery.”

The Uchiha’s patience gets tested, because the other man’s smile has been untiring, so is his scribbling, sketching, drawing of some sort and it takes a second more for Sasuke to recall his formidable jutsu during their short encounters in the battlefield. Other than his artsy inclination, Sasuke considers his replacement unworthy of more attention than what he already gave him.

As the conversation (mostly just the other man’s unnecessary comments on the attributed smell of cucumber and its wonderful effects to the skin) drew stale approaching silence, the door opens and slips in the pink-haired kunoichi, still wearing her white robe over her usual mission gear, one hand embracing a paper bag of groceries, and the other, his noodles.

She notices him already awake, but keeps her eyes diverted to the other person in the room.

“Sai, did you wake him up?”

“No, I didn't,” Sai responds, holding out his pad towards her, angled a bit so it’s still clear in Sasuke’s perception. “Here, look. I was even drawing him asleep. Why would I want him to ruin the picture?”

Sakura shakes her head, crossing her arms as she sets aside the items she bought. “Remember what I told you about sketching people in their sleep? Creepy habit, Sai. _Very creepy_.”

“But it’s rare to find an Uchiha in a vulnerable state,” he almost mutters irately, like a child being scolded by his mother, except he senses another pair of eyes glaring at him inside the room. He eventually sighs, stands up and bows his head at them both. “I guess I’ll leave now. Your turn to watch him, Sakura-chan.”

As Sai leaves, Sakura turns to pick up the noodles, draws the patient’s table across him, and sets the noodles on top with a pair of chopsticks. Then Sasuke begins to speak.

“Watch? Afraid I’ll run off again?”

Sakura, taken aback, attempts to hide the anger on her face by closely knitting her eyebrows in worry instead, then painting a reassured smile – a simple mask she wears when healing patients; they require her to be on their side, that everything will be okay and nothing as grave as they’ve been through is going to happen again. But Sasuke knows how to read her, quite ironic that he’s never even been in close proximity for the past four years, yet efficiently gets the message.

“It’s not what he meant by _‘watch’_ ,” Sakura quietly says. “Sai’s not very good with words, he’s socially incapacitated –” she shrugs, turning again her attention on his food, “– he meant it like we take turns in watching you just in case you wake up or needed anything. It’s a standard practice in here to at least have someone, a relative or friend, look after the patient because most of the nurses and medical nins are tending to other people. A war just ended; it’s even bustling with people in here, more than it is in the streets during a festival.”

She separates the chopsticks for him, because one arm seems to be worthless, letting him smell the sweet barbecue flavored ramen noodles with an egg yolk on top of the dish happily smiling at Sasuke. Patiently, she stirs and mixes the contents, only stopped when her friend touched the back of her hand and she looks up.

“But you’re still afraid I might do that again, aren’t you? Run away and never come back?”

He’s not using his sharingan but the gaze from the rinnegan-less eye pierces her soul faster than the truth. Sakura nonetheless maintains a serene smile, unwavering, like her faith in him. This time, he senses her candor in the way she curves her lips.

“Then we’ll just have to run out a search team and get your ass back home again. Now, eat.” She shoves the chopsticks into his mouth as a surprise attack, as he manages to not become overwhelmed by how she must have exerted some force into make him chew it, but softly enough not to choke from.

As he swallows, she hands him a glass of water, fully knowing well that she might have been killed by now if it weren’t for his dominant arm being of no use at the moment. He doesn’t search for her eyes anymore when he whispers a solid ‘thank you’ – which also meant _‘I’m sorry’_ or _‘Goodbye’_ – depending how it’s articulated into his sentences. Somehow, she starts distinguishing them in her head, relying on his bearing for its actual denotation.

He leaves two days later and Sakura decides the next time he’s back, she intends to expand his phrasal usage.

 

 

 

ii.

Sasuke’s return to Konoha happens about two years after reacquiring his arm. While traversing the deserts that divided the actual nation of Suna and Konoha, he accidentally meets a familiar man, a clan leader in fact, to one of the most celebrated Eye Prowess users, the Byakugan. Strikingly enough, a meteor flashes before him, its trajectory headed straight for the village hidden in the leaf.

“Hiashi Hyuuga,” he addresses, lifting the older man, putting the wounded’s arm over his shoulder. “I’ll escort you back to Konoha. Tell me what happened and what is yet to happen en route to save time. We are lacking such condition. The moon is looking quite enlarged.”

Panting, the man with all his power points at the moon. “Hinata… Naruto … on the moon.”

Much to his frustration, Konoha faces the catastrophe of the moon’s disintegrated parts falling from the sky. At his arrival Sasuke breaks down the largest one nearly crashing to the village and turns to his previous sensei, watching in wonder how he saved thousands of lives. Again.

“While he is away, I’ll be protecting this village.”

 

A year after his brief reappearance, much less even letting his old teammates know he’s been around town, Sasuke receives from a hawk, bearing Konoha’s official symbol, an invitation to the most prestigious wedding ceremonies since time immemorial - only because Naruto’s a show off, and because he’s marrying into a clan that is obviously out of his league.

Sasuke smirks at the thought. _Finally_. This dumbass, finally. “It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s wanted you for a quite a long while now, Naruto.” The wind carries his words, Sasuke, legs worn out from the journey and an encounter from missing nins from Suna, looks over his shoulder to the direction of where at that very moment, his best friend and the Hyuuga heiress are exchanging vows, and everyone else in Konoha cheers and celebrates and wishes them blessings of a fruitful life.

Maybe he isn’t a genius himself, because he’s too self-righteous to think Sakura’s still going to be waiting for him for three years straight now. Then again, she can’t possibly deny herself the opportunity of settling down too: some unnamed shinobi, a war buddy, a medical nin she might have encountered in the hospital, a patient, a fucking civilian for all he cares. _Anyone, really_ – it doesn’t matter. She just has to stop waiting by now.

 _“It doesn’t take a genius either to know she’s wanted you, and only you, Sasuke-teme.”_ Even the imp’s voice echoes into the open, Sasuke’s eyes widening at the reverie-like response. The desert has gotten the best of him, indeed.

But it’s the first time in three long years, Sasuke considers of going home, as it’s expected of him, as Naruto’s also hoping for him to stand at his side when he slips the ring to Hinata, as Sakura might be desperately clinging to nothing but his ghost.

He pulls out a piece of paper and writes, then tying it with the messenger hawk before he requests it be delivered to Naruto with his apologies.

 

 

 

iii.

It’s autumn that same year when he eventually arrives at the gates of the leaf village, skirting to see many children playing hide and seek outside, and slipping in to the town proper, still in his rugged poncho overalls and worn out sandals. His hair grows longer now, covering half of his left eye, when he catches a reflection of himself in one particular shop’s window.

“Sasuke-kun?”

A little baffled at the greeting, he takes a step back when a blonde girl pounces at the glass window, waving at him as she heads for the door in eagerness. She grins when she reaches the front, scrutinizing Sasuke from head to toe with deep interest that felt far too familiar for the Uchiha’s taste.

“I can’t believe it’s actually you! Long time no see!”

“Ino,” he manages to say, half-expecting he’s going to end up being squeezed into a long embrace of yearning from all the years he’s been out of her sight. He vaguely remembers during the Fourth Shinobi War how she’s been one of the few… _friends_ , who seemed to have trusted him still, despite his absence. Shikamaru had been snide, and even Chouji had grown unpleasant towards him.

She does not give him a hug, which is a relief, but at the same time, an unsettling character. “What brings you back? Does Sakura know you’re back?” Ino doesn’t even give him time to exhale out a response as she continues, “Oh, you wanted to buy her flowers? I have just the thing. I’ll arrange her favorites with the best ones we’ve had. Autumn is truly a beautiful season, don’t you think, Sasuke-kun?”

He tilts his head to the direction of the hokage’s office, indifferent with Ino’s monologue about flowers. She’s about to enter the store again when he thinks it’s truly unnecessary for her to go through such effort.

“It’s not really necessary, thank you,” he tells her, and he sees her smile fade slightly away. It reminds him how once upon a time, a flock of girls frolicked for his attention and he ignored them brashly, each and every one including her and Sakura, because girls hadn’t been a priority at all, and there had been more matters worth attending. He will admit Ino’s appearance makes her worthy of a title somewhere in the lines of “Most Beautiful Kunoichi to ever Live”, right after Lady Tsunade.

“YOU MISSED MY WEDDING YOU FUCKING BASTARD I CAN NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT!”

As on cue, Naruto trudges towards him at lightning speed, kunai at ready. Always the idiot, charging head on. Sasuke clashes with his weapon undoubtingly, well prepared, attacks already in memory, and they scuffle a little out of habit, a little out of nostalgia that it’s even bringing a smile on both of their faces.

They stop, because Sasuke held out his hand to offer what appears to be a sword still in its sheath, roped tightly like a package. “A gift. For your wedding.”

“Seven months late,” Naruto huffs, turning his back. When he notices how Sasuke doesn’t bother moving, he swipes it from his hands and rushes to open it, gasping a wow like an innocent child.

“What is it? Why is it so light?”

“Remember that meteorite nearly hitting Konoha a year back? I took some of the crumbs then found out the material would be a better substitute to steel, because it happens to be lighter. It would make a great tool. However, it took a long time to yield, and I had to, for myself, check if it was… _safe_ enough for your usage,” he smirks afterwards as the childish remark harries Naruto even more.

“Fine, this will have to do.” Breathing deeply, Naruto pats his arm in defeat. His signature grin eventually finds his face. “Say, why don’t we call on everyone for a drink tonight? Just like old times, eh?”

Such _old times_ have been smudged out of Sasuke’s memory – they were not even old enough to drink when he departed from Konoha. He has not seen anyone of his classmates literally in their drunken states. How weird (even for Shino Aburame’s standards, he’ll impose) it is to sit next to them when he believes there certainly is a rigid wall of betrayal and no amount of burning and apologies will ever tear it down. They happen to all grow up together, protected each other, and he hasn’t been around so willingly to grow with them.

Which is a shame, and strictly one of his regrets.

After a short visit to the Hokage to report his encounters with the other nations, Sasuke walks into the restaurant only to find all of them exchanging a few chatters among themselves. Some, particularly Kiba, Shikamaru, and even Tenten, frown when he enters. They arrive early, Sasuke notes, Naruto already beckoning for his ass to sit next to him in this _little_ get-together. Little is an understatement, everyone’s an adult now and Akamaru’s not even an exception, teething a bone behind his master.

Sasuke locates his seat, Naruto to his left and a blank cushion to his right. Across is Ino, irritably nagging Shikamaru on God knows what this time and he’s not playing it _‘cool’_ like he used to. Sasuke resolves it best not to ask about people not present here.

Sasuke scans the room: Rock Lee still hasn’t deserted the green spandex outfit, Tenten’s still desperately telling him to lose it already. Then there’s Shino, quiet, silent, some insects floating around his presence seem to go unnoticed. Kiba’s the entertainment of the hour apparently, already standing up as he narrates his latest mission how he and Akamaru lead the enemy to its trap and eventual death. Chouji has remained unconcerned, delightfully taking advantage of everyone’s share of the barbequed meat rolls. Shikamaru and Ino are arguing about why Shikamaru hasn’t made his move yet while Sai, somewhat similar to what Sasuke’s been doing, observes everyone else from his quiet corner beside Ino; even though he’s stuck in between her and her lazy teammate, his beam shows his queer contentment. Hinata ends up busy trying to wipe Naruto’s lips with all that sauce.

Guilt starts swamping him – how can he walk in to all of their lives again as though nothing happened, as though he hadn’t tried to destroy their home, as though he hadn’t been living just outside their reach only wanting to have all of this, _his friends_ , be killed?

Naruto clears his throat to have everyone’s attention. “Hey everyone! Come on, listen up. Let’s make a toast! For Sasuke’s return. After nearly eight years of not having him with us for dinner is worth celebrating so all drinks on me!”

It isn’t long until he finds himself forced to engage in small talk, with each of them and it’s rather comforting to talk to people outside of Naruto, for once. He hears Chouji’s already engaged to a certain Karui, Shikamaru’s undergoing what appears to be a breakup with the liaison from Suna but Ino refers to it as a _‘cooling off’_ period. Sai and Ino have been going out on dates for a while now too. Tenten rejects Rock Lee twice enough for his entire springtime of youth; Kiba’s been dating with a few civilians around town except Akamaru disapproves with each one he meets.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

The moment she walks in, Sasuke distances himself from the meaningless discussion, attention abruptly, without much control, on the person walking in towards their corner of the room. She’s maintained the length of her hair, above her shoulders and parted sideways, and blooming like her namesake despite when everything else should have withered in preparation for the cold. Feelings for friends, family, and a home – hardly wither, he thinks.

Ino rolls her eyes, although in the least spiteful. She even smiles. “Yeah, billboard brow, it’s about time you showed up.”

“Sakura-chan! Hey, sit with Sasuke!” Naruto calls, tossing a glance at her direction. Without hesitation she crowds into the small space left for her, and she still is apparently petite, Sasuke observes. As she goes about calling Ino a pig for not rejecting the beef Sai offers, Sakura switches to her left side, facing a rather brooding Sasuke, pleasantly and quietly finishing his meal.

“Welcome home,” she whispers, only for him to hear but loud enough to have him glance up at Sakura blushing. He finds no reason to respond, because he realizes he doesn’t know how to, exactly, approach such a greeting, coming from her who he hasn’t seen and have longed to see for the last three years. Perhaps the only reason in fact of coming home, but he won’t ever admit that to anyone.

When she realizes he will not budge a single emotion, she returns to focus on her meal, explaining to the rest she couldn’t get out of the clinic quickly as patients just kept coming. She no longer talks to him for the rest of the night, and he deviates back to a deemed pensive mood.

The session did not last that long as they all head for home around midnight – everyone handling the alcohol pretty well, a memory Sasuke wants to keep even though it’s not exactly extraordinary. The grudges against him have evidently fade out, and perhaps it is not as bad as he has expected.

“Where are you staying, by the way?” Sakura, hanging around just a bit longer than the rest, asks when they’re the only two left outside the eatery.

He shrugs, looking at the sky and how it holds the stars in place. “Anywhere, I guess. Probably a hotel.”

“You’re planning on leaving again.” It doesn’t come out as a question, more like a declaration of loss when she says it, head looking at her feet as they start walking to no place in particular.

“Depends,” he suddenly answers, a ray of hope riddling her jade eyes. “I may leave, seeing as though everybody’s life is unfolding and my involvement in it isn’t principally needed –”

“I see.” She’s depressed again, accepting the truth faster by looking away. Sasuke tries to hide his grin as he halts, facing Sakura for the first time since earlier, a hand already at the side of her cheek. It causes her to jolt, and he flinches because it’s also the first time he has ever done this with anyone he doesn’t intend to mercilessly kill.

“ – then again, I don’t feel the need to leave either,” Sasuke continues, face stoic but voice a little shaky than before.

“You mean…”

“I’m glad to be home.” He pokes her huge forehead with his two fingers, a blush emanating from both that her initial reaction to it was to poke him right back, but he’s quick, already ahead of her, leaving her dumbfounded and confused. It mustn’t have been genjutsu or else she would have felt it that way.

“Where do you live again?”

Exasperated at his lack of interest and change of subject, Sakura follows him, pointing to east when they reach an intersection. “What does the poking mean?”

“Do you like it?” An earnest question from him, Sakura ponders, based from his movements – an honest side yet again revealed only to her.

She smiles. “Actually, yes, I do.” Quickly, her hand extends to the top of his head, no matter how tall he has already gotten, and she returns the gesture at him, running at full speed afterwards like they were children back in the academy. As soon as she turns her back at his silhouette in the distance, she bumps into his cold chest, losing her balance slightly but gets support from Sasuke, pleased how naive this is and yet she still pretends she can get away.

She stands away, keeps her hands to herself, and they resume walking. When she offers no talk, Sasuke clears his throat.

“Listen Sakura, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything I’ve done.”

She shakes her head lightly. “You’ve already said that a couple of times already.”

“But I don’t think you understand the gravity of it,” he stops, waiting for her to pause too, in which she does, seconds later to face him again in petty anxiety. He always makes her feel uneasy, restless and reluctant to even take a step forward with him, in him. “I’m sorry. That I always leave, that you may feel I’m taking the hokage’s pardon for granted or not telling Konoha about my whereabouts or if I have ever the intention of staying. I’m sorry for wanting to initially kill you. All of you.”

“I get it, Sasuke, really, you don’t have to –”

His eyes look sharp, red suddenly because of his kekkei genkai; what she knows of the sharingan is that it reflects what the heart invokes. Fear, anger or love – such inexplicable forces of emotions that will trigger the user to suddenly set off the filter, bearing the powerful eyes of their blood.

“I’m sorry that you’ve always had to wait for me,” Sasuke sighs, clearly unprepared for this sudden admission. “I can’t atone for what I’ve done for as long as I live and I am deeply sorry for letting you suffer like this. Day after day, false hope after another, that my return will be my last, it is not something I am willing to see you burden yourself for the rest of your life. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Her eyes refuse to stop from crying, but a smile etches across her face in the faint moonlight and damp streetlight. She takes a step forward, cradles his face close to hers and plants a kiss on his lips – the first they’ve ever shared, the one thing he most certainly did not expect, and his now most favorite thing to keep in the shelves of his heart. Sakura pulls away first.

She gazes into his eyes at it softens back to a coal black, dull and still staring at her. His heart melts in the instant she holds him close to a hug; unable to reciprocate properly, she squeezes him tighter, urging him already to wrap his arms around her to make the moment last.

“I’ll always love you,” Sakura says. “Always. And I’ve seen and heard enough proof that you’re willing to do the same. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. No matter how far you go that won’t change how we feel and you will always want to come back. We remain… _connected_. That’s why I can’t quit you, nor love anybody else.” He receives another poke on the forehead, her hand slipping into his, hauled with her fast approaching their destination.

When they are at her door, Sasuke realizes he hasn’t really let go of her hand for the longest time until she takes it out of his grip and she waves at him good night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Rather unwarranted, but he nods nonetheless.

 

 

 

iv.      

The next time Sasuke leaves, Sakura’s joining him. An S-rank mission to the Mist village, perilous as Kakashi might want to overdo it, has been handed out to them both; while it only requested of Sasuke’s skills to be worthy, Sakura’s begging made the hokage change course and set them out as a duo.

Their return, after nearly five months out of the operations, forces their old sensei, to sign what appears to be papers of a marriage license and certificate, inducting Sakura into the Uchiha clan.

 

 

 

v.

“And then what happens next, mama?”

She’s turned four years old the other morning, crying on her birthday that Boruto yet again teased her about not having a dad. She yells at him and throws a punch, still tearing really, then running towards Sakura when she picks her up from the playground.

Now she’s in bed, tucked in by mama.

“And then papa, as usual, didn’t stay very long, but he promises he’ll always come back to the village because Sarada is here, and mama is here and he loves us both very much.” She tickles her little body, across her tummy then nibbles her chubby cheeks.

Giggling, Sarada pushes her away, wiping her face with her small palms. “But when will papa be home next?”

Sakura’s two fingers land on her daughter’s forehead, nudges it slightly back, and quite resembling that of hers, except everything about her in appearance screams Uchiha all over, deserving of her last name indeed. Sakura grins.

“Soon, honey. Papa will be back home soon.”


End file.
